365 Days of Regulus Black
by DolbyDigital
Summary: [21] "I can't see this going well," Regulus muttered to himself. [22] "Sirius!" Regulus shouted across the crowded platform, ignoring the disapproving stare of his mother which promised later retribution. [23] "What flavour do you think this is?" Regulus asked, holding up the white Bertie Bott's Bean.
1. Decomposed

He could feel himself rotting away on the inside; everything that was him - that _defined_ him - twisting into something unrecognisable, and as far from the person that he wanted to be as possible. And there was nothing he could do to change it.

He hated this feeling - this helplessness - that was brought with it. Or maybe, that was the cause of it. He couldn't tell any more.

Either way, it was tearing him apart. Eating him away from the inside out, and he was no longer in control. Everything was falling away from him, everything he had worked so hard to achieve was disappearing, and that was such an entirely new sensation to him that he almost didn't know what to do with it.

But he knew - he _knew_ \- that the only way to end it - to stop feeling like this - was to make a change. To become more like his brother, the brave and courageous Gryffindor. To stand up for what he believes in.

He just wasn't sure what that was anymore.


	2. Avada Kedavra

He couldn't do it. He couldn't _bring_ himself to do it. He might have been able to dredge up the will - the _desire_ \- to do it, but where would that leave him?

If you asked his eldest cousin, he would have finally earned his place amongst their ranks. It had been an easy decision for her, bringing her equal amounts of glory and fear from others.

Barty had told him how good it would feel - to have that much control; the power to end someone's life so quickly and easily. That the more you cast the spell, the easier it was to form on your lips until the very word became a comfort.

And his brother… His brother already hated him, but he would despise him if he knew that he was genuinely considering this. He would tell Regulus that he should be willing to die before he would do this to another person. To an _innocent_ person.

The words spilled from his lips, forcefully and full of hatred. A flash of green illuminated the room, gone in an instant.

He was none of the things his family or friends expected to be. He wanted none of the things they felt he should. He didn't want glory or to be feared; he didn't want control or power; he didn't even particularly want to be accepted - not any more. But, most of all, he didn't want to die.


	3. Until That Time

**A/N** \- Written for theresnomeaning.

This is very loosely based on the song Ab Initio by Tristania, and the writing style is based on that of From a Buick 8 by Stephen King (though not done particularly well).

The flashbacks occur in reverse order.

* * *

This wasn't how it was supposed to go. We didn't have it all planned, but we did have an end-point in mind, and this was certainly not it.

Here, in this graveyard, snowflakes falling lightly, melting before even reaching the ground. You, hunched in front of a gravestone, whispering your fears to a slab of rock when you should have been confiding in me.

This wasn't how it was supposed to be.

.oOo.

 _They looked up at the sky, watching the snake writing in the skulls mouth. Regulus tried to ignore the destruction beneath it. A family had lived there once - young, two small children, the little girl's doll lay broken on the path, her outstretched arm still reaching for it even in death._

 _He didn't know what the family had done to deserve this, but orders were always to be obeyed._

 _Later, hidden away from prying eyes, they would both question this, though neither would speak their thoughts aloud to the other. For now, though, the stood, side by side, hoping that_

.oOo.

"everything will be okay," I whisper the useless words, knowing that you cannot hear them. Knowing that they come far too late.

You don't react, I knew you wouldn't, but I had still hoped that maybe you might have had some sense of my presence. It is only a minor disappointment when you do not. But still, I would like nothing more than for you to hear the words that I should have spoken sooner - when there was still time.

.oOo.

 _"Do you ever," Regulus began, trailing off and shaking his head. These were not thoughts he should be having. There should be no room for doubt. Severus would tell him that, he was sure._

 _"Do I ever…?" the older boy asked, briefly glancing up from the yellowed pages of his old text-book._

 _"No, never mind," Regulus said. "It's not important." And, at the time, he had believed that, only later realising_

.oOo.

"I should have told you." There was no way of knowing now, how that might have changed things. Maybe we would still be together? Alive and fighting on the same side. Our own side. Fighting for us.

Or maybe this was destined to happen, and we would have found ourselves here, in this same graveyard - different circumstances, but same result. There was no way of telling. And to think, we had both been so sure. Back in the beginning.

.oOo.

 _"Do you really think this is a good idea?" Severus asked, watching Regulus carefully with black eyes._

 _"Of course. Don't you?" Regulus didn't look up from his homework, still writing in his elegant script across the length of parchment, dark hair falling across his eyes, the length longer than he would usually allow._

 _"Yes. I just wanted to know what you thought," Severus murmured, not taking his eyes off the other boy as he hurried to complete his assignment before his next class. Regulus could feel his gaze, but chose to ignore it for the time-being._

 _"It's what's expected of me. You know my family."_

 _"But if you're doing this because it's something your family expects-"_

 _"Severus," Regulus looked up then, "I am doing this because_ I _want to. My family has nothing to do with it. You've seen his work. It's… Yes, there have been others, but none so…_ visionary. _He is so much more than any man before or after could ever hope to be. And we are lucky enough to have been born in this generation."_

 _Severus smiled, the expression forming slowly on his face as though he weren't used to casting it. "Good. I would hate for you to get cold feet."_

 _"You shouldn't concern yourself with me. You should worry about yourself."_

 _Severus laughed softly at that, smirked, and said, "at least I'm not the one running late for class."_

 _Regulus shook his head, quickly gathered his belongings, and headed towards the door, turning his head to call over his shoulder,_

.oOo.

"I'm already gone," I whispered. "Please, _please_ , start taking care of yourself." There is no use you wasting your time here. This is a place for the dead, and yours is amongst the living. You should not be clinging so hard to something that is already gone.

You should move forward; build a life for yourself. But just know this:

I am not buried beneath the ground at your feet.

I will always be by your side, until the time that you are ready to release me.


	4. Needless

_It was needless, the way the sent_ children _out to do their dirty work._

.oOo.

Lucius watched the youngest Black; standing amongst the ranks of Death Eaters, black cloak and white mask shielding his identity so that only those who knew him well could recognise him, he had finally achieved everything Lucius knew he had been working so long for. But was this right?

He had no doubts in his beliefs - their cause was clearly the right path - but, in some of their methods, he couldn't help the slightest inkling of uncertainty.

Regulus, while of age, was still at Hogwarts - still a child. The official line was that he had been allowed such early entry because he was an exceptional case; the most popular rumour was that it was because of his name - Bellatrix had pulled special favours, or maybe the Dark Lord needed another Black (a _male_ Black, though no one would say as much if there was even the slightest chance Bellatrix was within earshot) to strengthen his standing.

Lucius knew differently. It wasn't that he was particularly high in the ranks - he was loyal, of course, and his name meant a lot, but he was still relatively new - but he was observant. Quietly watching, listening, remembering things others would easily forget and connecting different moments to view the full picture.

They were building their numbers, strengthening the ranks. The Dark Lord was clearly planning something big, and he needed as much man-power as possible. There had been a dramatic increase in the number of new recruits in recent months - so much so that even the Ministry was starting to thing something might be happening (though, of course, they had no idea of the extent of it).

Anyone who was willing was being accepted; at first Lucius had been sceptical of this policy, but he had kept his mouth shut. He was glad of that now. It had allowed him to continue to observe, unsuspected, and slowly piece together all that he had learnt. These new recruits - mostly fresh out of Hogwarts, though a few were still at school - were destined to be nothing more than cannon fodder for this cause they believed in so strongly.

Lucius saw nothing wrong in their deaths - if they had to die to strengthen their cause, then so be it - but this seemed meaningless, even to him. Surely there were better uses for these children? Surely there was some way that they could be used that would not end in the certainty of their death?

And it all began and ended in Regulus Black, for he knew that boy could do greater things than pave the way for others with his rotting corpse. And if Regulus was capable of doing more, then who was to say that some of the others - the more intelligent ones, obviously; not the likes of Crabbe or Goyle, even if their hearts were clearly in it - could not?

.oOo.

 _But he knew that nothing would ever change._


	5. His Alone

This was the place he came to think, whenever anything got to be too much for him.

He had been coming here increasingly often, of late, more so as things really began to spiral out of his control.

He'd found this little clearing, off a side-alley near Grimmauld Place. It used to be a children's park, but the skeletons of the slide, swing-set and roundabout were all that remained of it now. It wasn't exactly out in the middle of nowhere, but it was small enough to remain unnoticed now that it was no longer functional. Graffiti covered every available surface, and cigarette butts littered the patchy yellowed grass, but even the teenagers with no where else to go had eventually abandoned this place.

But not Regulus. He visited that little park nearly every night now, leaning against the framework for the swings, the seats and chains long gone, or perched on one of the rotting seats of the wooden roundabout. He always steered clear of the slide, though there wasn't a particular reason for it. Maybe because it was under the shade of an overgrown tree, which blocked out what little light the stars and moon could provide, but he'd never been afraid of the dark.

This was his sanctuary; he had nothing to fear here. No one would find him; there were no duties or responsibilities or unsavoury tasks.

At first, he'd set up as many protection spells as he could, designed to repel both wizards and Muggles alike, but he'd long since passed the need for them. It was clear now that this place was his, and his alone.

And, almost every night now, he would retreat here, to the safety and seclusion the little park offered. And in those nights, it became his world.


	6. One Letter

He would never forget the day the letter came. It would be forever ingrained in his memory.

He had been sitting at the kitchen table, Kreacher serving him breakfast - bacon and eggs, he remembers; he'd been very excited about it at the time, but now he couldn't even look at bacon without the acidic taste of vomit coating his tongue - the unopened post still sitting in the centre of the table.

His eyes were on the House Elf as his mother reached towards the envelope, the name written in his brothers neat script with black ink on the cream paper. It was thinner than the other envelopes on the table - couldn't contain much more than a single sheet of parchment - but it was more than anyone had been expecting from Sirius on his first day at school.

He was still focussed on his breakfast when his mother read through it for the first time - there would be many read-throughs, the short letter passed around the family until everyone except Regulus, who never got to know the exact contents, had read it several times. He could just see her out of the corner of his eye, as he shovelled forkfuls of eggs into his mouth.

Distantly, he noticed her paling, eyes widening, hand clasping at her throat as though she were struggling to breath. She only really drew his attention - on what must have been her second read-through - with a choked off shriek as she leant back dramatically in her chair and thrust the letter into his father's face.

"Orion, have you read this?" she gasped, her hand shaking. He could remember thinking that it was a stupid question - _of course_ his father hadn't read it; she'd been the one to open in - but he'd known better than to say anything.

"What is it?" he asked, his attention still on the paper, either oblivious to or ignoring his wife's distress.

"It's Sirius, he's- _he's_ … Read it!" she stuttered, her tone shrill, as she pushed down his newspaper, tearing it in the process, and forced the letter into his hands. He let out a sigh, slowly trailing his eyes down the paper. Regulus watched, forkful of bacon held halfway to his mouth, as his father's eyes scanned the paper for a second time - third - face reddening with each read-through; eyes narrowing, lips pursing.

It would be several weeks before Regulus found out the contents of that letter - from his cousin, who had thought he'd already known - but that moment would always stick in his mind as the point where everything changed.


	7. Maybe

_Regulus was dead._

Maybe if he kept repeating it, it would finally sink in. It hadn't worked so far - it didn't feel real - but maybe… Maybe.

He kept expecting to hear from Regulus - a floo-call, a letter, _anything -_ but that would never happen now.

People thought he was coping well - they thought he hadn't been as close to Regulus as he had claimed, or maybe that he was so emotionally challenged that he simply didn't care that his best friend was dead…

 _Regulus was dead_.

Spoonful of cereal half way to his mouth, milk dripping from the slightly tipped spoon, he finally broke down. Huge, choked sobs wracked his frame, snot and tears running freely down his face. He dropped the spoon; it bounced off the edge of his bowl, spilling milk and soggy cornflakes over the wooden surface of the table, milk steadily dripping onto his lap.

His messy sobs turned into desperate screams, his breaths coming out in ragged gasps. He was light headed and felt vaguely like he was about to throw up, but he couldn't stop now that he had started.

 _Regulus was dead_.


	8. His Greatest Achievement

He had been sceptical at first - such a flimsy piece of wood did not look like the safest method of transportation, and it was far from the most dignified - but those thoughts were long gone. Now, with the wind stinging his eyes, he couldn't remember why he had been so hesitant.

The broom - charmed by his uncle to only fly to a certain altitude - quickly became his most prized possession. He hadn't wanted to land, instead wishing he could spend the rest of his life flying through the air, but his mother's angry screams had sent him quickly to the ground.

.oOo.

Sirius hadn't spoken to him for the rest of the day; he only glared every time Regulus tried to approach him. It wasn't until they were both in bed, Sirius with his back turned to Regulus, did he finally speak.

"Just because you can fly now doesn't make you special." Regulus could hear the anger in his tone, but didn't understand why it was there.

"But you can fly," he said, voice seeming smaller in the darkness of their room.

"Well… yeah," Sirius said, apparently a little unsure of what to say next.

"So we can play Quidditch now," Regulus said, feeling slightly better about this.

"Uh… I suppose," Sirius said, rolling over to squint at his brother in the dark.

"It'll be fun. And Cissi can-"

"No girls!" Sirius snapped. "Girls are stupid."

"Oh, okay." Regulus had already forgotten about Sirius' odd behaviour before, mind already busy thinking of plans for the coming weeks, falling asleep to images of Quaffles and Snitches.

.oOo.

It would be years before Regulus thought of that moment again. He couldn't say what had drawn the memory to the front of his mind, but it was there, clear as day.

It was only with hindsight that he realised his brother had been jealous - of what, he wasn't sure - but it hadn't changed anything. He could remember Sirius turning up to every one of his matches, even if he had always been sitting in the opposite stands. He could remember the brief flash of pride across Sirius' face whenever he had caught the Snitch.

He hoped he would make his brother proud again soon.


	9. Far From Love

It was destructive, he knew, but still he came back for more. They were both addicted to the rush of endorphins; it certainly wasn't _love_ that drew them together. This relentless push and pull - always fighting to gain the upper hand - couldn't be mistaken for romance. It was violent and hateful and everything you shouldn't want from another person.

He wasn't sure what had drawn him to the older boy - it certainly wasn't his sallow appearance or superior demeanour, and his personality was far from appealing - and he couldn't say what the other boy was getting from this, either. Maybe it was simply the satisfaction of shagging his tormentors little brother. If that were the case, though, Regulus would tell him not to bother; Sirius wouldn't care either way.

And he certainly couldn't explain why, when the older boy graduated, he _missed_ him.


	10. Mariposa

Regulus watched the delicate fluttering of the butterfly's wings. He had been watching the creature for some time now, hoping that if he stayed still enough it might come closer. Mesmerised by the colours and grace of the creature, he didn't notice his brother approaching until it was too late.

"What're you doing?" Sirius asked loudly, frightening the creature and causing it to fly away.

"Nothing," Regulus said tonelessly, watching the insect fly over the fence at the back of the garden and out of sight. He had been hoping to keep it as a pet.

.oOo.

He stood at the platform, about to embark on his first year at Hogwarts. Sirius had disappeared as soon as they'd arrived, leaving him to say goodbye to their parents alone.

"Don't forget your owl," his mother said, handing him the heavy ornate cage. The creature was large and brutish, feathers permanently ruffled; nothing like the sleek owl Sirius had received before his first year.

Regulus pushed a small finger through the bars of the cage, withdrawing his hand almost immediately with a gasp. Blood dripped down his finger from the gash created by the creature's beak, and he glared back at the large bird.

"Regulus, do be careful," his mother admonished, quickly healing his finger and ushering him onto the train.

.oOo.

"Why do you always use the school owls?" Barty asked him one evening; they were the only two people in the Owlery. "I'd never use one of these useless creatures if I had my own." Regulus quickly tied the letter to the bird's leg, glancing briefly at his own owl where it sat far out of his reach and glaring at him with small, beady eyes.

"I'm pretty sure it killed my cousin's cat," Regulus said monotonously, breaking eye contact with the creature and allowing the school owl to fly off.

"Don't be ridiculous; it's a bird," Barty said. "It couldn't possibly kill a _cat_."

Regulus wasn't so sure.

.oOo.

Regulus stood, owl cage in one hand, matching the creature's glare from across the room. He held his wand firmly in the other hand.

"Will you just get in the cage," he snapped. The made a slight noise of displeasure, but otherwise didn't react.

"You've been here for hours," Barty said, tone bored. "Just give up already."

"It's my _pet_. I can't just leave it at Hogwarts," Regulus hissed, not breaking eye contact with the owl.

"Some pet. You haven't even named it."

"Well… I…" The owl ruffled its feathers aggressively, and the few school owls brave enough to sit even remotely close to it shifted away. "It hates me," Regulus said. "Always has."

"Just leave it. It's the school's problem now."

Regulus took one last look at the owl before dropping the cage and leaving the Owlery.

"You could keep the cage, y'know," Barty's voice could be heard behind him.

.oOo.

"Are you still moping about that owl?" Barty asked, letting himself into Regulus' flat without bothering to knock.

"I miss the evil bastard," Regulus said, not looking up.

"How? You only ever saw the thing when you went to the Owlery," Barty said. "How'd you even get it home over summer?"

"I didn't. Never saw the point."

"So why d'you miss him?" Barty asked, but continued before Regulus could reply. "Anyway, if you still had that beast I couldn't give you this." Regulus frowned, finally looking over.

"What is that?" he asked, trying to see what Barty was cradling in his hands. Barty grinned, handing over the black ball of fluff to his grinning friend.

"So, what're you gonna call her?" Barty asked, dropping down onto the sofa next to Regulus. Regulus took a moment to think before answering.

"Mariposa," he said with finality.

"You can't name your cat butterfly," Barty said, smirking when the kitten bit the pad of Regulus' thumb. "You really have rotten luck with pets."


	11. Broken Toys

"I-it was an ac-cident!" Regulus hiccoughed, fat tears running down his cheeks.

" _You_ were an accident!" Sirius yelled, refusing to let his own tears fall.

"B-but I-I," he stuttered, tears falling faster and words breaking off into a choked sob. Sirius stormed from the room, leaving his brother's unfinished apologies behind. "I-it was an accident," Regulus whispered to the empty room.

He sniffed loudly, wiping at his tear stained face. He sniffed again, looking down at the broken toy train. It was Sirius' favourite toy, and he always told Regulus he was too young to play with it by himself. He really hadn't meant to break it; he'd only wanted a closer look.

.oOo.

"Why don't you just throw that out?" Barty asked, frowning at the broken toy on Regulus' windowsill.

"I- I don't know how to fix it," Regulus muttered, watching the toy rather than his friend.

"You're eleven. You're too old for _toys_ ," Barty said, turning his frown onto Regulus.

"It's not mine," Regulus replied, still avoiding eye contact. "I just don't know how to fix it," he grudgingly admitted.

"Reparo," Barty said instantly. "It's a breeze."

"Oh yeah? If it's so easy, you do it," Regulus said defensively. Barty paused, looking from the toy to his friend, before shaking his head.

"No. It's not mine."

.oOo.

He held his wand in his tightly clenched fist, staring at the broken toy in trepidation. His hand shook slightly as he raised his wand, the fear of getting caught almost making him stop, but he steeled himself.

 _"_ _Reparo_ ," he said clearly, pointing his wand at the train. They first try sent the train falling to the floor, and the second and third attempts did nothing. But on the fourth try the toy mended itself, looking just as Regulus remembered it.

He grinned, dropped his wand onto his bed, and carefully picked up the toy. The walk down the corridor to Sirius' room took longer than ever before, but he was so proud of what he'd done and he didn't want to ruin it.

He didn't want to risk holding the toy with just one hand, so he pushed to door open with his shoulder, not bothering to knock.

"Get out of my room!" Sirius yelled, throwing an old textbook at Regulus. The train fell from Regulus' hands, breaking again as it hit the floor. Regulus could feel the tears already stinging his eyes. "What're you doing with _that_?" Sirius asked incredulously. "Just throw it out."

Regulus scooped up the pieces of the toy, cradling the broken train to his chest and running back to his room.

.oOo.

Sirius _really_ did not want to be back in this house. He thought he'd seen the last of it when he was sixteen, but now he was back, and it was so much worse than he'd remembered. At least as a child he had his anger fuelling him, but now he was left alone with his memories.

He thought perhaps if he were to clear out some of the old junk they might be able to use the place for the Order meetings - at least then there would be people to distract him from his thoughts - but, standing just outside the door to his brother's old room, he was regretting his decision to start on his own.

He took a deep breath, steeling himself, and pushed open the door. A layer of dust covered everything, but. other than that, the room looked exactly as he remembered. Right down the the old toy train sitting on the windowsill. The paint was peeling in places, and the magic that had once made it move had long since faded, but the _reparo_ cast by his little brother still held.

He carefully picked it up, feeling the sting of unshed tears, and carried it back to his room. He kept it in a box locked away under his bed; he didn't want the constant reminder of having to look at it every day, but he couldn't bring himself to throw it away when his brother had obviously cared enough to keep it.

.oOo.

Harry pulled out the old box, the lock - rusted and useless - gave away under his touch without the need of a key or wand.

"What's that?" Ginny asked from across the room.

"I don't know," Harry said. "I've never seen it before."

"Really? Don't you clean this place?"

"No one's really been here since the Order," he said, attention mostly on the box. He pushed up the lid, hinges squeaking in protest, to reveal nothing but an old toy train. "It's just a toy," he said, sounding disappointed even to himself. "Why would he keep this?"

"I don't know, it's kinda cute," Ginny said. "Maybe-"

"Mine!" Their son interrupted, already grabbing for the toy.

"James, I don't think-" Ginny began, but was interrupted once again.

"Let him have it, Ginny," Harry said, eyes still on the box. He pulled out a faded photograph, previously hidden under the train, and tucked it into his wallet without showing Ginny.

.oOo.

There was a faded photograph on the mantel, though someone had obviously cared enough to buy a new frame for it. Two boys - neither looking older than five - were giving almost identical grins to the camera. Between them was a toy train, obviously new.

And now, nearing fifty years later, a similar scene was being acted out by two different boys.

* * *

 **A/N -** Okay, so I did the (questionable) maths, and it's actually closer to 45 years later, but I thought it read better as 50.


	12. Making Friends

Regulus sat on the park bench, watching two children playing together on the swings. There were other children at the park, all laughing and having fun; playing games that Regulus would never be a part of.

.oOo.

 _"_ _Can I play?" Regulus asked a group of children around his own age. They looked at him silently, taking in his appearance. One of the girl's eyes flicked towards the bench, conspicuously absent of either of his parents, and she leaned in to whisper something to her friend._

 _"_ _We're going home now," said the boy she'd whispered to. He picked up the ball they had all been kicking around mere minutes earlier, and the group headed towards the small brightly painted gate._

 _Regulus stood, dejected, watching them depart. He was only left alone for perhaps a minute, though, before a hand grabbed his shoulder._

 _"_ _Regs! Come play with us," his brother grinned. "This is Peter; he just moved here."_

.oOo.

Sirius wasn't here now, though, and Regulus had never been good at making friends.


	13. Christmas Traditions

_1965_

He woke up shivering, reaching for his missing blankets. Instead, he found his brother, standing on his bed and wearing Regulus' duvet as a cape.

"Wake up, Regs!" Sirius yelled, jumping with each word. "It's Christmas!"

"I'm cold," Regulus said, reaching for the duvet. Sirius jumped off the bed before Regulus could grab hold of it, and ran from the room. Regulus scowled and followed his brother at a more sedate pace, his bare feet padding softy on the wooden floor.

"Quickly! Before they wake up!" Sirius hissed, already halfway down the stairs.

"But it's still dark," Regulus moaned, eagerly following his brother despite his words. He entered the living room to see his brother already crouched by the neatly stacked presents, duvet abandoned by the door.

"Here they are!" Sirius grinned, holding up the brightly wrapped presents in triumph. "Uncle Alphard sends the best presents," he told his brother, as if Regulus didn't already know. Why else would they have to open them in secret?

Sirius handed Regulus one of the presents, about to tear into his own, before stopping.

"I got you something," he said, slowly reaching behind the stack of presents and pulling out a small parcel hidden from view.

"Thank you," Regulus grinned, "I love it."

"You haven't even opened it yet," Sirius said with a frown, looking down at the present. The brown paper was barley staying put, the tape twisted and peeling, but Regulus was sure it would be the best present he'd receive this year.

"I love it," he repeated. "It's my favourite."

.oOo.

 _1971_

Regulus lay awake in bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. It was early - that place between last night and the next morning - but he couldn't get back to sleep. After so many years, it was a habit now. To wake up around this time on this specific morning. He wasn't sure what the point was now, though.

He had no idea how long he'd been lying there, watching the shadows move across the ceiling, when there was a light tapping at the window. He knew the sound of an owl's beak on glass - who didn't? - but never at this time.

With a grown, he dragged himself out of bed and shuffled over to the window. The blast of cold air did more to wake him than the walk over, though he didn't have to keep it open long. The owl didn't carry much, just a small parcel badly wrapped in brown paper, which it dropped unceremoniously onto his bed, before settling itself on top of his wardrobe without any clear intentions of leaving any time soon.

He could tell it was his brother's messy scrawl, even from across the room, and he couldn't stop the grin from spreading across his face.

Maybe Christmas wasn't ruined after all.

.oOo.

 _1977_

Things had taken a turn for the worse this year - and he'd thought that impossible after seeing the brief flash of disappointment in his brother's eyes when he had been sorted into Slytherin - so he wasn't expecting anything. He still hadn't managed to get out of the habit of waking up before dawn on this particular day, but that didn't stop him from trying.

Though, try as he might, he was unable to curb the disappointment at finding nothing when he finally opened his eyes. It was what he'd expected, really, but the hot sting of unshed tears was a constant presence throughout the day. It didn't help that there was only one other Slytherin staying at school during the holidays, so, with no distractions, Regulus was left to dwell on it.

He walked sluggishly through the dungeons, having left the Christmas feast early, much to the apparent disappointment of Professor Slughorn; no one else had really noticed. He entered the Common Room alone, hoping to pass through quickly - he would never admit this to everyone, but the emptiness of the castle during Christmas had always scared him a little - but was stopped in his tracks at the sight that greeted him.

It was nothing major - certainly not something that should bring such a feeling of elation to him - and he might had missed it had he not looked up at the exact moment that he had. The small parcel with that same messy scrawl, somehow unchanged by years, sat innocuously on one of the armchairs. He really hoped this meant that things weren't as bad as he had feared.

.oOo.

 _1979_

The sky brightened with the first light of day, beginning to bring life into the murky scene that lay before him. The fog hadn't quite cleared, but that didn't matter as there was no one out at this time on this particular morning. The small graveyard was empty, the only sign of someone having been there recently was a small parcel wrapped in brown paper left in front of one of the more recent headstones.

* * *

 **A/N** \- (Approximate) Ages:

 _1965_ \- Regulus = 4, Sirius = 5

 _1971_ \- Regulus = 10, Sirius = 11

 _1977_ \- Regulus = 16, Sirius = 17

 _1979_ \- Regulus = 18, Sirius = 19


	14. Heaven

This was Regulus' idea of heaven: sitting on his bed with his best friend, surrounded by what looked to be the entire stock of Honeydukes. Empty wrappers littered the floor around the bed, and sticky fingers reached out for more sweets.

"We should do this everyday." Barty grinned, chocolate coating his teeth and smudged at the corners of his lips. Regulus groaned, flopping back onto the bed and sending various sweets falling to the floor.

"That sounds like a terrible idea," he moaned, shoving a handful of Bertie Bott's Beans into his mouth, wrinkling his nose at the earwax undertones.

"It's an amazing idea, and you know it," Barty said, nibbling at his own bean before eating it. Regulus stretched his arm out, reaching for the Fizzing Whizbees. They were perhaps an inch out of reach, though, so he gave up and grabbed a chocolate frog instead. "How are you _this_ lazy?" Barty asked incredulously.

"Hey, look! It's Dumbledore," Regulus said instead of answering, his chocolate frog escaping and jumping out of sight.

"Got it," Barty muttered, grabbing the Fizzing Whizbees and throwing them at his friend. "You know those have dried Billywig stings, right?"

"Don't care." Regulus grinned, shoving a handful into his mouth.

"Well _that_ was certainly a terrible idea," Barty said, watching his friend begin to levitate off the bed.


	15. Potions Class

"This isn't a competition," Regulus snapped, glaring at his friend.

"Course it is," Barty said. "Slughorn said the best potion got a prize. So I've got to beat you."

"Okay, first of all, he didn't tell us what that prize was. It could be completely rubbish," Regulus said, ignoring Barty's scoff. "And secondly, we're working together, you idiot."

Barty scowled down at their potion. It was bubbling a violent shade of purple, the occasional spark flashing across the surface. It was supposed to be a pale pink.

"It's also incredibly unlikely we're going to win," Regulus added, jumping at the loud bang of a cauldron exploding at the other side of the room.

"I'd say our odds just got better," Barty said cheerfully.


	16. Blurred Photographs

**A/N** \- I'm bored, so I wrote some crack. Kind of regret it, but kind of don't.

* * *

"Why don't you just write a love song about him?" Sirius asked from the doorway, making Regulus jump.

"Get out of my room!" Regulus yelled, slamming his folder closed and throwing an old textbook at his brother. Sirius laughed, leaving the room, and Regulus got up to slam the door shut with a scowl. Regulus jumped back onto his bed, opening the folder carefully and pulling out some of the newspaper clippings.

The various news stories and blurry photographs were all he had.

.oOo.

"Hey! What are you doing?" Barty yelled, glaring at his friend, half of that mornings _Daily Prophet_ still clutched in his hand. Regulus was staring at the photograph on the page he'd ripped out; it was obviously old, depicting a young boy sitting in front of a plain backdrop. It was unmoving, so Barty assumed that it must be some sort of Muggle ritual to force your child to sit in such a bland setting.

"Look! He's just a baby!" Regulus practically squealed. "He's _adorable_!"

"Oh, Merlin, not this again," Barty groaned, deciding to ignore the rest of what his friend was saying in favour of reading the second half of a story about Gringotts.

.oOo.

"Is no one going to question what Black is doing?" A Slytherin, perhaps a year or two above them, poked his head through the doorway to their dorm.

"He'll get up when he's ready," Barty said, not even looking over at his friend. Regulus had been lying face down on the floor for going on half an hour now, though none of his roommates were particularly concerned. "It's usually best not to disturb him."

"He doesn't even know I exist," Regulus whined, sitting up suddenly, the other boys in the dorm all voicing their complaints.

"Now look what you've done," Barty snapped at the older student. "I hope you're happy."

.oOo.

"Barty!" Barty groaned at hearing his friend's excited tone. This didn't bode well for him.

"What?" he sighed, curious despite himself.

"Cissi said Lucius said that Bella said they're recruiting more Death Eaters," Regulus said, his excitement obviously mounting.

"Alright," Barty said. "And what's that got to do with us?" He regretted the question as soon as he'd asked; Regulus immediately launched into his usual spiel, one that Barty had heard so many times now that he knew exactly when to nod or comment without listening to a single word. If Regulus ever noticed his lack of interest, he didn't seem to care.

.oOo.

"DId you see him?" Regulus asked once again. "He's so _powerful_ , and-"

"Yes, I was there," Barty interrupted before Regulus could continue much further. Regulus, however, just glared and continued.

"And he's so _beautiful_ and-"

Barty tuned out; Regulus could go on for hours normally, and now he had new material. Maybe this had been a mistake.


	17. Thief

Regulus watched Sirius reach up to the counter, standing on tiptoes, and searching blindly for the plate he knew to be there.

"Sirius, we're not allowed," he whispered loudly, pulling on the hem of his shirt. "Mama will be mad."

"She won't be able to tell." Sirius turned to glare at Regulus then. "And you won't tell her."

"I won't," Regulus promised. Sirius turned back to the counter, reaching for the plate one more time.

"Good," Sirius said, dropping to his knees and joining Regulus under the kitchen table. He handed Regulus two of the three cookies he'd stolen. "Don't drop any crumbs, or Kreacher'll tell."


	18. Everything Ends

**A/N -** Written for Round One of QL - write about your chosen Death Eater going on a holiday (I chose Regulus which, I'm sure, is no surprise to anyone - with the optional prompts [song] 'Graduation' by Vitamin C and [word] Tomorrow.

And thank you to Dina [DinoDina] and FF [firefly81] for beta'ing!

* * *

 _I keep thinking times will never change_

 _Keep on thinking things will always be the same_

.oOo.

 _1966_

"Where are we going?" Regulus asked, trailing after his older brother.

"You know where we're going," Sirius said. "We go there every year."

"I don't remember," Regulus said, frowning up at his brother.

"Then you'll see when we get there." Sirius stepped up to the fireplace, standing beside their mother. Regulus hung back, twisting the fabric of his robes around his fingers. "Come on," Sirius whispered, holding his hand out for his brother.

.oOo.

 _1967_

"Come on," Sirius whispered, holding his hand out for his brother. "We need to be quick if we want to get back before Mother wakes up."

"But it's dark outside," Regulus said, voice rising in pitch.

"Shh!" Sirius hissed, grabbing his brother's hand. "Don't you want to explore?"

"We come here every year. What's left to explore?" Regulus asked, but allowed his brother to pull him through the front door.

"It's different at night," Sirius said. "And we get to see the places Mother doesn't want to go."

"Maybe Mother doesn't want to go there because they're not nice places," Regulus suggested.

"Mother doesn't like to go because they're actually _interesting_ ," Sirius whispered, turning the lock on the door so he could pull it closed without locking them out. "C'mon, let's have some fun."

.oOo.

 _1968_

"C'mon, let's have some fun." Sirius grinned at his brother, already racing ahead.

"Mother said we have to stay together!" Regulus yelled after him; he wasn't as fast as his brother and was struggling to keep up. Sirius had already turned the corner, running out of sight, and Regulus could feel the sting of tears behind his eyes.

"Regs?" Sirius called, stepping back into view, a worried frown marring his features.

"You're not supposed to leave!" Regulus yelled, running faster to catch up with his brother.

"I'm not leaving," he said with a roll of his eyes, crossing his arms and glaring at Regulus. "It's no fun to have an adventure by yourself." Sirius grinned then, turning and jogging at a pace Regulus could keep up with.

"But we've been here before," Regulus panted.

"So? Anything can be an adventure," Sirius said. "It'll be fun."

.oOo.

 _1969_

"It'll be fun." Regulus only responded with a doubtful look to his brother before turning his attention back to the cliff face.

"We normally just go to the beach," he said eventually.

"Yeah, which is down there. But we should go up this time!" Sirius said.

"I don't want to."

"Why not?" Sirius said, already reaching towards the wall and preparing to climb.

"It doesn't look fun," Regulus whispered. "I don't want to fall."

"You like flying. You're not afraid of falling then," Sirius said, turning to face his brother. Sirius watched his brother for a moment, before nodding. "Okay, let's go to the beach." Regulus should have felt happy - they were doing what _he_ wanted for once - but it felt hollow.

"Yeah. Let's go."

.oOo.

 _1970_

"Let's go."

"To the beach?" Regulus asked.

"Yeah, where else?" Sirius said, already leaving the house. "There's nothing else to do here." Regulus felt a brief flash of guilt but pushed it aside. If Sirius had really wanted to do something, there was no way Regulus would have been able to stop him.

"Yeah, okay. Let's go."

.oOo.

 _1971_

"Let's go," Sirius said. Regulus remained silent. "What's wrong?"

"You're leaving."

"Yeah… we're going to the beach." Sirius looked a little confused.

"No, after that. When we get home," Regulus clarified. "You're leaving."

"Oh."

"Oh," Regulus repeated, quieter.

"I'm not going forever. And I'll write you every day," Sirius said. "You'll have a major advantage over all the other Slytherins, 'cause you'll have me to look out for you." Sirius grinned proudly at his brother. "I'll even help you sneak out of the common room."

"Really?"

"Really."

.oOo.

 _But when we leave this year we won't be coming back_

 _No more hanging out 'cause we're on a different track_

.oOo.

 _1972_

"Really. I think you'd make a great Gryffindor," Sirius said.

"I'm a Black," Regulus said. "We've always been in Slytherin."

"I'm not." The silence stretched after that, neither sure what to say. "I'll race you to the beach!" Sirius blurted suddenly, grabbing Regulus' hand and dragging him along behind him.

"This isn't racing!"

"Fine," Sirius snapped, letting go of Regulus' hand and speeding up, disappearing around the corner.

"Sirius!" Regulus yelled, slowing to a stop. His brother didn't return. "Sirius?"

.oOo.

 _1973_

"Sirius? What're you doing?" Regulus asked. He still wasn't sure his brother had forgiven him.

"Making a plan," was his brother's curt reply.

"Why? We don't normally have plans."

"Plans help. James said so. And Remus is really good at making them work." Regulus barely knew these people, and yet he'd never hated anyone more.

"Aren't we just going to the beach?" Regulus asked.

"No. We're gonna climb the wall."

"I don't want to," Regulus whispered.

"Why do you always have to be such a _baby_?" Sirius snapped, grabbing his crumpled piece of parchment and storming from the room.

"I'm not a baby," Regulus said, trailing after his brother. He was almost running, and he was still a few paces behind Sirius by the time they reached the cliff.

"You first," Sirius said, pushing Regulus forward.

"Why me?" he asked.

"So I know you won't chicken out." Regulus looked up at the cliff face, then back to his brother's stony expression.

"O-okay," he whispered, reaching up for the first handhold. He didn't get very far before he made the mistake of looking down.

"What are you doing?" Sirius yelled.

"I- I can't," Regulus shouted, feeling his clammy fingers begin to slip. "Sirius, I can't do it!" He could see his brother beginning to climb up after him, but it was already too late.

"It's okay, you're okay," Sirius whispered in his ear, wrapping his arms around his brother. Regulus knew that he was crying, but he thought Sirius might be to, and that scared him more than the fall had. "You're okay, just… Don't tell Mother."

.oOo.

 _1974_

"Don't tell Mother."

"Don't tell Mother what?" Regulus asked.

"You have to promise not to tell her first," Sirius said. "Or I can't tell you."

"But then how would I know if I could promise not to tell Mother?"

"Do you want to hear or not?" Sirius snapped.

"I want to hear," Regulus replied immediately.

"Then you have to promise not to tell Mother." Regulus thought about it for a moment, long enough that he could already tell Sirius thought he would say no.

"Okay."

.oOo.

 _1975_

"Okay. Let's go."

"Okay," Regulus muttered, his tone enough to cause Sirius to stop and turn to face him.

"Is this 'cause of what I told you last summer?" Sirius asked. "'Cause I'm not leaving you, I'm leaving _them_."

"But you _are_ leaving me," Regulus whispered, hating that it came out as more of a whine.

"It's not for another couple years," Sirius said, after a pause. "I have to wait until I'm seventeen."

"Yeah, but it's not like we can talk at school," Regulus muttered.

"Stop worrying about it. We should go outside. We're on holiday, after all."

"It's raining."

"We could go into town," Sirius said.

"Mother's normally in town."

"Not when it's raining."

"We don't have any money," Regulus said.

"Why are you like this?" Sirius snapped. Regulus knew he had reason to be so irritated, but that didn't stop the sting of hurt he felt.

"I don't know," he whispered.

.oOo.

 _And if you've got something that you need to say_

 _You better say it right now 'cause you don't have another day_

.oOo.

 _1976_

"I don't know," he whispered. "What am I supposed to do now?" He paused, as if waiting for an answer, before turning to face the empty room he had once shared with his brother in the small cottage.

He would see Sirius again tomorrow, at school, but it wouldn't be the same.

"There's nothing to do."

.oOo.

 _1977_

"There's nothing to do," Barty whined, and Regulus couldn't remember why he had allowed his mother to convince him to bring a friend along.

"You didn't have to come," Regulus snapped, not bothering to turn and face his friend.

"I thought it would be fun. You always said you liked it here," Barty muttered sullenly, and Regulus couldn't stifle the flash of guilt.

"We could go into town?" Regulus said, after a pause.

"Yeah, sure."

.oOo.

 _1978_

"Yeah, sure," Regulus muttered to himself. "You do this now?"

He reached for the first handhold, climbing a lot faster this time. He wasn't even a quarter of the way up when he felt himself begin to slip again, but this time there was no one to save him.

"Maybe you should have been in Gryffindor, after all. They're all idiots."

.oOo.

 _1979_

"They're all idiots," Sirius muttered, standing alone on the deserted beach. No one ever came down to this alcove, largely, he supposed, because it was so difficult to see from the path along the cliff.

He'd stayed for the customary week at the end of August - not in the same cottage, but close to it; that had never really been _their_ place, anyway.

"I miss you."

.oOo.

 _1980_

"I miss you," James said.

"I haven't been gone," Sirius replied immediately. He wanted to head down to the beach, but he was reluctant to bring James. Regulus had never particularly liked him, though Sirius had hoped they would get along under different circumstances, and that spot had been the only place that was truly _theirs._

"I hardly ever see you anymore. It's like you're there, but you're not."

"I'm sorry," Sirius whispered.

.oOo.

 _1993_

"I'm sorry," Sirius whispered. "I'll come back next year."

.oOo.

 _'Cause we're moving on and we can't slow down_

 _These memories are playing like a film without sound_

* * *

 **A/N -** (Approximate) Ages:

1966 - Regulus = 5, Sirius = 6

1971 - Regulus = 10, Sirius = 11

1976 - Regulus = 15

1979 - Sirius = 19

1993 - Sirius = 33


	19. Lucius Malfoy's Hair

**A/N** \- Mild crack. Using the prompt:

 _This is the way the world ends_

 _Not with a bang but with Lucius Malfoy's hair._

* * *

Regulus crept behind his brother, his hands shaking and his breathing fast.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" he whispered.

"It's a _brilliant_ idea," Sirius scoffed, not bothering to turn to face his brother.

"But he'll know it was us, or you at least. Won't we get in trouble?" Regulus asked.

"Where's the fun in doing something if no one knows it's you?"

"Because _you_ know it was you!" Regulus hissed. The shaking in his hands had increased, and he was really starting to doubt he'd be able to do this.

"It'll be fine." Sirius finally turned to face him then, just as they reached the closed door. "But you don't have to do this. Not if you don't want to."

"So, what? You'd do it alone?" Regulus asked. "You always said that was boring."

"Well, yeah. But this _needs_ to be done," Sirius said. "If you want to back out, now's the time."

"Alright."

"Alright?"

"Let's do it."

Sirius grinned at his brother, then turned to face the door. He waved his wand, muttering an incantation, and the lock clicked softly open. With a glance over his shoulder, finger pressed to his lips, Sirius led Regulus into the dark room.

.oOo.

He was awoken the next morning by a loud scream; the banging of doors and running footsteps were quick to follow. Sirius was already at the door, looking out into the corridor.

"You!" Narcissa screamed; Regulus couldn't see her, but he was reasonably certain that it was Sirius how had caught her attention. "What the _hell_ did you do to him?" Sirius only laughed, somehow managing to sound both evil and childlike.

Regulus pushed aside his duvet, lowering his feet to the cold floor and slowly making his way over to his brother.

"Where'd Narcissa go?" Regulus asked, when he could see into the corridor.

"Probably back to comforting Malfoy," Sirius said with a smirk. "He's gonna need it."

"Have you seen him yet?"

"Nah. 's what I'm waiting for."

"How bad d'you think it'll be?" Regulus asked, leaning back on the opposite side of the door frame to his brother.

"Judging by all the screaming? Sounds bad," Sirius said. "Haven't figured out if it was Malfoy or Narcissa, though."

"You!" Sirius rolled his eyes at their mother's words; apparently Narcissa had been taking lessons. "How could you do- And to- You could have ruined your cousin's wedding!"

"Based on-" Sirius began.

"That's _enough!"_ Walburga screamed. "Your father will be hearing about this!"

.oOo.

"Boys," Orion said, looking from one to the other. He took a deep breath, the corners of his mouth twitching up slightly. "In the future, please leave Mister Malfoy's hair alone."


	20. The Spider

Regulus sat on his uncle's knee, looking down at the moving pictures in the old book.

"The spider was turned into a beautiful princess," his uncle read, pointing to each word as he spoke so that Regulus could follow along. "And married the youth, who became king and she a queen."

"But, Uncle," Regulus asked once his uncle had closed the leather-bound book. "Why would he marry a spider?"

"She was a princess, Regulus. She gave him everything he could ever want," his uncle replied, setting the boy on his feet and returning the book to the shelf.

"But he didn't know that!" Regulus objected, glaring up at his uncle.

"It's just a story, Regulus," his uncle said, but Regulus didn't think that was a good enough answer.

He spent the rest of the day searching the library for spiders, ignoring his uncle's occasional disapproving glances, but the room was kept too clean.

He didn't think he would have much luck in any of the other rooms, but he tried his brother's bedroom just in case. Sirius had not been happy, but he'd understood Regulus' plight.

 _("You should be looking for spiders in that head of yours," Sirius had said, which Regulus had chosen to take as Sirius' attempt at advice.)_

He hadn't managed to find a spider that day, and Sirius had been unwilling to help further, but he vowed to himself that he would keep trying. For as long as it took.


	21. Plan B

**A/N -** Hot People: good to the last drop.

* * *

"Why are we hanging out here, again?" Regulus asked, eyeing the first years warily. A large group of them were standing at the edge of the lake, jumping around and yelling and making general nuisances of themselves.

"Just ignore them," Barty said. "They're not why we're here."

"Why _are_ we here?" Regulus asked, finally looking away from the first years and towards his friend.

"Because," Barty said. "We should be enjoying the sunshine while it lasts. This is Scotland, after all."

"Uh huh," Regulus rolled his eyes. "And the real reason?"

"That is the real reason!" Barty voice rose with each word. "I like to appreciate the good weather, work on my tan. And maybe if Amelia Bones happens to be spending the day at the lake–"

"There we go," Regulus muttered.

"–then it can't do any harm to appreciate her beauty from afar," Barty continued, ignoring Regulus.

"Creepy." Barty sent a quick glare Regulus' way out of the corner of his eye.

"Like you're any better." He scowled, but his expression quickly changed. "She's looking this way! Pretend I said something funny!"

"What?"

"Laugh!" Regulus let out the most forced laugh of his life. "Well that wasn't helpful," Barty snapped.

"I did what you asked!" Regulus tried to defend himself.

"Well that laugh sounded like it was your first day as a human."

"Hurtful," Regulus said, leaning back in the grass. "Y'know, there is something else you could try. Now it's a bit out there," Regulus warned. "But you could try not acting like a total pillock and maybe _use your words_." There was a brief pause as Barty thought this over.

"You think that could work?" he asked.

"You won't know if you don't try."

"But what should I talk to her about?"

"I don't know, Barty," Regulus said with an exasperated sigh. "Just have a normal conversation with her."

"That seems a little risky," Barty said, frowning slightly. "Maybe I should come up with a backup plan and try again tomorrow."

"Go talk to her," Regulus said, closing his eyes. "Before I push you both into the lake."

"Why would you push her into the lake?" Barty asked.

"Because I've had to hear so much about her in the past few weeks that it's almost like she's been irritating me herself," Regulus snapped. "Any you never know. Maybe she can't swim any you could rescue her."

"Can we make that plan A?" Barty asked. "I think it'll probably work out better. Less chance for error."

"You could both drown."

"I'm a strong swimmer!" Barty objected.

"No you're not! You don't even like taking baths."

"That's not true! Showers are just much more convenient." Regulus sat up then, turning to glare once more at his friend.

"Stop stalling and go talk to her."

"But–"

"I'll tell you what, if it looks like it's going too badly I promise I'll try to drown you both."

"Should we come up with a signal?"

"Just go!" Regulus yelled, pushing Barty to his feet. Barty took a moment to glare down at his friend from where he now towered above him.

"Okay, but be prepared. Put those seeker instincts to good use, Regs," Barty said, leaving before Regulus could answer.

"I can't see this going well," Regulus muttered to himself, sitting up and crossing his legs, leaning closer as if that might help him to hear better.

"Hey," Barty yelled as soon as he was standing in front of Amelia, startling her and causing Regulus to wince.

"Casual," he muttered to himself. Barty had the first years' attention now, and that of a few other students who had decided to make the most of the rare good weather.

"You look better in natural light," Barty said, still at the same overly loud volume, his voice audibly cracking. Regulus wondered if he might actually have to tackle them both into the lake somehow.

"Thank you!" Barty yelled, louder this time, and turned to run back to Regulus. Amelia stood in exactly the same position, having not said a word, looking completely shell-shocked.

"What the hell was that?" Regulus hissed as soon as Barty reached him.

"Run!" Barty grabbed Regulus' arm, dragging him to his feet and pulling him towards the castle.

"What the hell was that?" Regulus asked again, once they'd stopped in an empty corridor.

"Where the hell were you?" Barty yelled at the same time.

"It's like you've never even talked to a person!" Regulus yelled, ignoring Barty's question.

"She's beautiful!" Barty tried to defend himself, eyes wide and hand gestures erratic. "I panicked!"

"Yeah, I could see that," Regulus scoffed, pushing Barty away from him. "I'm thinking you should probably avoid her for a while."

"But–"

"Try again next week," Regulus interrupted. "I'm sure I can convince my brother to do something stupid. She'll have forgotten about you in no time."

"That's probably not as reassuring as you intended," Barty muttered, glaring at his friend.

"It's plenty reassuring," Regulus said, pushing away from the wall and walking away from Barty. "You need to come up with a new plan, though. One that plays to your strengths." He looked back over his shoulder when Barty didn't reply, and saw the other Slytherin staring at him with wide eyed panic. "We'll get to work tomorrow."


	22. How It Starts

"Sirius!" Regulus shouted across the crowded platform, ignoring the disapproving stare of his mother which promised later retribution.

Sirius looked up briefly, made eye contact with his brother, then turned back to the dark haired boy he had been talking to. Regulus frowned, disappointed, but decided to wait for his brother to come over to them.

"Mother," Sirius greeted coldly, when he finally made his way over. Regulus frowned. He didn't know much of what had happened between them over the year – only that Mother was angry, and so was Sirius, and they were both unlikely to back down – but he hadn't thought it would be like this. "Can I stay at James' for a couple weeks?" Sirius asked, not even looking at Regulus.

" _James_?" their mother snapped. " _James_ who?"

"Potter," Sirius said. She seemed to think about it for a moment; Regulus hoped she would say no.

"When?" she asked, and Regulus felt his heart sink.

"His mum said I could stay with them for the first couple weeks," Sirius said. "And they're going to France at the end of July. They said I could come, too."

"But we always go to France," Regulus said. "Why d'you need to go twice?"

"So, can I go?" Sirius asked, trying not to appear too hopeful.

"You may go for _one_ week," she said – Regulus thought she probably just wanted him out of the house, but didn't want to appear too lenient. " _Not_ this week," she added when it looked like Sirius was about to run off. "I will not have come all the way down here for nothing," she snapped. Sirius looked disappointed, but it was nothing compared to the crushing disappointment Regulus was feeling.

Sirius grinned, though he quickly hid the gesture.

"I'll be right back," he said, turning and running back to his friend. Regulus could see the boys talking and laughing, but he couldn't make out their words. He wondered if they could ever go back to that, him and Sirius, or if things would be different between them now.


	23. The White Bertie Bott's Bean

**A/N —** I'm pretty sure I'm high right now, because I'm absolutely mesmerised by the white Bertie Bott's Bean.

* * *

"What flavour do you think this is?" Regulus asked, holding up the white Bertie Bott's Bean.

"I don't know," Barty said, rolling his head slowly to look at Regulus. "That's kind of the point of them." Regulus stretched his arm across the space between them.

"Can you lick it?"

"What? Why would I do that?" Barty asked, pushing himself up into a sitting position. He knocked the bag, a few beans escaping and sliding down the roof.

"Because I don't want it if it tastes bad," Regulus said, bringing it closer to his face. "It's completely white. Do you think that's good?" he asked. "Or very bad?"

Barty lay back down, content to let Regulus come to a decision on his own. The bean appeared in front of his face again.

"What is wrong with you?" Barty asked, pushing Regulus' hand away. "Lick your own damn bean."

"But—" Regulus pushed himself up onto his knees, sliding down the roof a little before he managed to catch himself, the bean still firmly grasped between his thumb and index finger. "—what if it's bad?"

"Then why would I want to lick it for you?" Barty asked.

"Because I don't want to," Regulus said. Barty looked unimpressed. "And that's what friends are for."

"Licking each others' beans?" Barty asked sceptically. Regulus paused for a moment, thinking.

"Well… yeah," he said, nodding. "I'd do it for you." Barty pulled an orange bean from the bag.

"You'd lick this?" he asked.

"Of course."

"But I don't want you to," Barty said.

"That's not the point," Regulus tried to reason. "It's the fact that I _would_ do it that counts."

"Why would— Just eat your bean," Barty snapped, putting his own bean in his mouth. Regulus shrugged and did the same.

"Oh, it's nice," Regulus said cheerfully. Barty's face screwed up in disgust and he spat his be an out, gagging.

"That was the most vile thing I've ever tasted," he groaned.

"Should have let me lick it," Regulus said. Barty glared, and reached for a handful of beans, throwing them at Regulus. Regulus ducked. "I did offer," he muttered sullenly. Barty picked up a green bean.

"Lick this," he said, holding the bean out to Regulus.


	24. Picturesque

Regulus dropped the goblet, distantly hearing the _clink clink clink_ as it hit the ground and bounced, then rolled, across the stone floor of the cave.

He supposed the scene would have been beautiful under any other circumstances. The cave was clearly naturally formed, and the lake created a soft glow, and the little island he was standing on was the best place to take in the picturesque scene.

If only … If only it wouldn't end so terribly. But there was no other way. No other way for it to end, and he wasn't sure he wanted there to be. At least this — this beautiful monstrosity he was faced with — was coming about on his own terms. At least _this_ meant something.

He could try to run. Maybe he would be killed in a few days, weeks, months. Maybe he would last years. But what sort of life would that be? Living in constant fear. Fear that he will be discovered, caught; fear that someone will recognise him and mention his whereabouts in front of the wrong people. He didn't think he could live like that. And, as much as he didn't want to die, he knew it to be the lesser of two evils.

He was not faced with good options, but he had put himself into this position. He had no one to blame but himself. His brother had tried to warn him against joining; his cousin had tried to warn him against disobeying. He had ignored them both, and now he would pay the price.

With a deep breath, he tried to calm his racing heart.

He stepped forward, towards the beautiful lake, but he knew there was something deadly lurking just below the surface. As soon as the toe of his shoe touched the water, the surface began to stir, whirls created in the once still water as the creatures sensed his presence.

A thin hand — only skin and bone — broke the surface, reaching towards him with long, ghostly pale fingers, and he was caught in that odd stillness between fight and flight. But he knew what he had to do.

Before he had a chance to think on it any longer, Regulus took a large step forward, into the lake. The water was deeper than he had thought — he'd been hoping he might be able to wade in — and he dropped like a stone, his head sinking below the water.

The creatures grabbed ahold of him, clutching at anything they could reach; tearing at clothes and hair and flesh, breaking fabric and skin, with sharp nails and deceptively strong fingers.

He was holding his breath, though he knew it to be pointless, and he had to make a conscious decision to breath in. He'd rather drown than suffer through whatever these creatures had in mind.

Water filled his lungs, and he choked, limbs thrashing as some small part of him fought to survive. It burns his lungs and brings tears to his eyes, though those are quick to merge with the water of the lake, and he chokes and coughs uselessly.

Distantly, he feels nails and hands and _teeth_ , but everything is fading. He can't hear anything over the loud beat of his heart, and his vision blurs and fades.

Finally, he is calm.


	25. Train

Regulus sat on the Hogwarts Express in silence. He'd managed to find a carriage away from his friends, though the compartment wasn't empty, and so had been left alone for most of the journey.

He hadn't bothered to change out of his school robes yet — he wasn't sure he wanted to — despite the train nearing Kings Cross. Any minute now, he thought, as he watched the familiar scenery pass him by.

He'd never get to see this sight again — he wouldn't be coming back to Hogwarts for work or misbehaving children — and he knew this. Once upon a time, he'd had dreams of becoming a teacher. Maybe History of Magic or Astronomy, the only mildly useful things being a Black had taught him. As it was now, he would be lucky to make it to his twenty-fifth birthday.

He didn't want this train ride to end, because he knew what that would mean. It would signify the end of his childhood, and he wasn't sure he was ready for that. Hogwarts was safe and welcoming, even to people like him, and the real world was not.

Regulus had no allusions to the contrary.


	26. Curse

He watched as she lay, unconscious, in the narrow hospital bed.

She didn't look younger or older, or any of those things you hear in cliche stories. She looked as though she were simply in a very deep sleep — which, he supposed, she was — her mouth stretched widely open, looking as though she should be snoring, but no sound was audible.

She looked like his mother, but … _not_. He'd always — not _imagined_ , but assumed, perhaps — that she would look calm in sleep. Regal. She barely showed emotion on her face — unless, of course, his brother was involved — and he had thought it would be the same in sleep.

Walburga Black would never have allowed herself to be seen like this.

.oOo.

He visited every day; still no change, but the Healers assured him that she was doing well. That she was recovering. That was good, he supposed, though he would have liked for these improvements to have been more visible — something he could see for himself, just to be certain.

He left flowers some days, large bouquets of roses or tulips — anything red, her favourite colour — but he was starting to hate the display. It looked too much like blood, reminded him too much of death, and so he stopped bringing them altogether.

.oOo.

His visits became less frequent as time went on. There was no change in her condition — something the Healers said was strange, but he wasn't really surprised; _of course_ his mother would be difficult, even in this — and he was fast losing hope.

.oOo.

Some days, he cursed the doctors, himself, his brother. _Why wasn't she getting better?_ But there was only so much the Healers could do, and he knew this wasn't his fault — it wasn't Sirius' fault, either, though it took him longer to admit to that.

Now … Now, he blamed her.


End file.
